George W. Bush is thirsty
Now Playing: "Kingdom Hall" (Van Morrison)
Topic: 2004 election
Halfway through my morning run I found myself enveloped in the tangy aroma of new wine, and that led - like so many things nowadays - to thinking about George W. Bush.

Neither the president nor even the election was top of mind when I started running uphill toward the mounting sunrise. Perfect early autumn weather, a luscious vineyard landscape and the company of two fine dogs combined into a kind of reverie. The Labrador chased a dozen ducks from the surface of one pond; from the next a Great Blue Heron rose in effortless, slow-motion flight before we even got there. The day that had begun in solitude and strong black coffee was shaping up as good as I had hoped.

Halfway to the upper vineyards the smell rolled down to greet us. In an untilled field across from rows of carefully cultivated vines, the vintner was enriching virgin soil with the remains of his fermenting vats. The great piles of Zinfandel skins and stems and seeds scattered there were fertilizer for another crop of grapes still years away from ripening.

It was that smell that brought George W. to mind.

Though it has been more than 19 years since I last tasted a glass of Zin (or any alcohol), the heady aroma was instantly familiar, immediately attractive. In memory I could plainly feel the taste of it against my tongue and - more importantly, by far - imagine the warm glow alcohol almost always carried from my stomach to my brain.

For many real alcoholics - not your "problem drinkers" or occasional lushes - alcohol is more medication than disease. On any given morning you might drink to fix the jitters or fight back against a hangover, but the continuing quest for "one more drink" was far more deeply rooted. Drunks describe the effect of drinking as "filling a hole in myself," or knitting back together scattered pieces. Booze overcame timidity, smoothed the edges of resentments, lubricated social relations. "I drank to make other people interesting," a well-soaked cynic once observed. Cynical, but definitely not all wrong.

For people like that, taking away the alcohol without fixing the problems is as cruel as it is ineffective. "White knuckle" abstinence can clean up a drunk's traffic record, but psychologically it makes most things worse.

"Dry drunk" is not term of endearment at those meetings.

Most of the real alcoholics who quit drinking for good do so through Alcoholics Anonymous. Of those who not only stay away from booze but also find what the fellowship calls "serenity," I'd say roughly 100 percent go to meetings and try to live according to the principles AA calls "the steps."

You will protest: Uncle Charlie just threw out the bottle one morning and never touched another drop. Your mother-in-law quit with Jesus.

Well, sure. Some do. But not many. And the ones who get dry but don't get happy are pitiful bastards, indeed.

The same deep-seated insecurities and psychological troubles that beg for the medication of booze are the foundation of two enduring, near-universal traits among real alcoholics: well-nourished, smoldering resentments; and a pathological inability to accept blame. We do not take responsibility. We never apologize. It's not our fault.

Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States: George W. Bush.

Now, GWB doesn't need me to inventory his faults; he volunteered for group assessment when he ran for president, and he's getting plenty. I'd just like to help him get better.

Prof. Thomas Schaller connected some of these dots before me; earlier in October he argued that Bush's behavior at the first presidential debate was a clear revelation of "his true dependency." (http://gadflyer.com/articles/?ArticleID=226). The central argument: "a man is never totally cured of his addictions, and that [Bush's} alcohol dependency has transmuted into a public drunkenness with his own power."

Well, up to a point, Lord Copper. Schaller seems like a smart guy, but I'm willing to bet he's no drunk. His analysis, though insightful, is too facile. As Einstein reminded us, "Everything should be made as simple as possible - but not simpler."

Infinite number of monkeys
Mood:  chatty
Now Playing: Warren Zevon,
Topic: Introduction
Somebody thought that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would sooner or later produce the complete works of Shakespeare. So far the blogosphere has been proving that theory wrong.

Now I'm going to add my voice as further confirmation.

I've long found it therapeutic to write journal entires. I'm hoping this will be even more potent. God knows, I can use all the therapy I can find.